Ferran's words hit me like a truck as I stood there in the stairwell, eavesdropping. He loved me like a brother, he had said. Like a brother.

I took a few steps back, grabbing the handrail behind me as I stared at the ceramic tiles beneath my feet. After all this while, after I had gone in circles realising that deep in my heart I still loved him, I was met with this. I suppose he never loved me in that way. Maybe he never even loved me at all.

But that day at the harbour – I tried to dig within my own memories, he had told me that his feelings for me were real. What feelings were those then? Infatuation? Lust? A flurry of thoughts raced through my head as I tried to make sense of everything, grasping at anything I could find. To even try to comprehend a reality where Ferran never loved me was like being swept away by a strong current, taking me out to sea.

He loved me like a brother.

And that was when I remembered it all. How Ferran would rest his head on Rafel's shoulder as he rode on the back of the bicycle, how he would snuggle in bed against his brother, or how his eyes would light up whenever his brother was around, in a blissful reverie of his own. And then I remembered the shrill sound of his voice piercing that silent, empty night. The voice calling out to his brother as he climaxed. The voice that I could never forget.

I could only see two ways in that moment on how I could interpret those words of his – and neither were any good. I just stood there, clasping my palm over my mouth as I still tried to process everything. It seemed like all that mattered in that moment. Even what Momo did, or what he had asked of Ferran still hadn't registered with me, paling in comparison.

He loves me, he loves me not. Except it wasn't like an innocent game of ripping of flower petals. The feelings hit me like a brick – first pain, then confusion, and finally disgust.

It was only when I heard Momo coming down the hallway did I sprint down the stairs, hiding in floor right below Ferran's. I held my breath as I listened to the echoes of his footsteps approach, getting louder as he descended, walking past my floor, before they faded into the distance. I let out a sigh of relief – at least Momo hadn't seen me.

Walking back up to the floor above, I approached the door to Ferran's apartment. The door that I had approached so many times. Behind it was a world so comforting and familiar to me – a world full of flowers in full bloom and their pastel petals, and vivid memories brought to life in a tinted golden filter. I could press the doorbell – I've done it countless of times without a problem, but that day I just froze.

After what I've heard, I simply couldn't face Ferran. I placed the wine bag on the floor, pressed the doorbell, and made a rush for the stairwell.

As I scurried my way down the stairs, I thought of excuses that I could give to Momo. He surely would've been at the car by now, possibly wondering where I have gone. As I exited the lobby on the ground floor, I quickly made a stop at the convenience store under Ferran's apartment. I paced around the aisles, before finally buying a bottle of mineral water and a pack of cigarettes.

"You've smoked through the other box already?" Momo asked when he saw me arrive, box of cigarettes in hand. "That quickly?"

"Yeah," I mumbled. "You know I go through them a lot especially when I'm jittery. Helps with the nerves."

"I see," Momo muttered as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Is it because of – "

"Yeah," I cut in, before he could finish his sentence. "Yeah. Exactly that."

I let him think it was whatever it was that he as thinking of. I guess he must've thought I was still uneasy about what happened last night. Let him think that – it was the less harmful option. If he knew I had overheard him. . . No, he must simply never find out. I'd just have to pretend I never heard him, at least when I'm in front of him.

But it was difficult. The drive back home was quiet. I dropped off Momo at our place, while I went to return the car. A part of me expected Momo to be gone when I came back, but he was still there. He was lounging on the sofa, staring at nothing in particular. He too was deep in thought.

He must've been thinking about Ferran's reply too. I wondered what he thought about it. It wasn't like I could just talk to him about it.

I immediately went to sit out in the balcony to catch some of the midday sun. Sure the view wasn't as pretty as Ferran's apartment with its blooming flowers and the view of the marina, but I just felt that perhaps the warmth of the sun could help me forget the turmoil in my heart. Without another thought, I lit up another cigarette. Leaning against the railing, I took in the sights and sounds that have grown comforting to me – the gawking of the crows perched on the terracotta roofs above, to the burst of the doors of the bus pulling into the stop below. I felt the breeze in my hair, blowing the smoke of my cigarette away.

I heard the glass door slide open. Momo stood there in the doorway, his arms folded.

"If the warnings on the cigarette boxes worked I don't think you'd be smoking so much," he said.

His thin smile was tense, he could feel the tension in the air. Of course he'd know. How couldn't he?

"You very well know that I'm more of an auditory person," I said, shrugging.

He walked up beside me, his back leaning against the iron rails. He tried to smile, but eventually it too faded from his lips as a shadow fell upon his gentle features.

"You're thinking about him, aren't you?"

I let out a deep sigh. Of course he brought it up, but at the same time I'm glad he did. It was difficult to sustain silence between us, especially when there were things to be said. In the silences with Ferran I found a sorrowful comfort, but the silences with Momo were far more painful. It was a subtle pain, resonating from the back of my head to the pulse in my sweating palms.

"And even if I were, what's it to you?" I asked, turning to look at him. "My thoughts don't affect you now do they? Am I emitting telepathic waves? Is it interfering with your frequencies perhaps?"

Momo only smiled as he gazed at the floor. It was that shy smile that crept up the sides of his mouth. The sad, sad smile that I have grown all too familiar with. It always struck me how beneath that aura exuding wit, charm and confidence, was at its core a vulnerable boy.

"You are like home to me," he said. "With you I feel safe. It's like being wrapped in a warm blanket in front of a fireplace on a cold winter night."

"I never took you for the poetic kind," I replied as I reached out to caress his smooth cheek with the back of my hand. "But you always surprise me."

Momo only smiled.

"I suppose I am full of surprises," he said. "But sometimes you like things to be more. . . familiar."

I sighed.

"What's he to you really?" I said, sick of beating around the bush.

"I. . ." Momo began, before trailing off.

He shrugged, before biting his lips. It was rare to see him like this, at a loss for words. The Momo who had always something smart to say, the Momo who always wielded a sharp reply like a blade of a knife was stumbling through his words.

"Haven't we talked about it yesterday?" I cut in, getting a bit frustrated. "And you were the one who didn't want to talk about it."

I could feel my feelings rouse within me, from the pits of my stomach. Sure, it was one thing for him to be voicing his feelings about Ferran, but it certainly was something else to go behind my back to try and drive us apart. But still, I just kept quiet about it. Momo didn't need to know that I knew. I clenched my fists in a vain attempt to suppress my own anger.

He didn't have the right – he simply didn't.

"Weren't you the one who suggested that an open relationship was more suitable for us?" I added. "You said you were open to the prospect of me loving others because that didn't necessarily mean that I loved you less."

Momo was silent for a while, before he finally spoke.

"Of course it doesn't necessarily mean that you'd love me less. . . in theory at least, if that still holds." He muttered under his breath. "But it's starting to feel that way."

"How exactly?" I asked. "You know that I love you. You know that."

Momo ran a hand through his thick black hair as he let out a deep sigh, letting his shoulders fall.

"I know what I know," he said. "But I can't help how I feel. And after this whole trip, frankly I just feel this sense of dread that won't leave."

"But you were the one flirting with him right in front of my eyes," I replied. "You were even kissing him right in front of me."

Momo bit his lip.

"He's attractive, I must admit," he said. "In his own strange way. I acted upon that, I just wanted to see how it felt like, what it must be like to be with someone you love so dearly, and if that hurt you. . . Well, I'm sorry."

"So you wanted to hurt me then?"

"I promise you it was never my intention," he said. "I'd never do anything to try and hurt you on purpose."

"Then why does it seem like you're trying to drive a wedge between Ferran and I at every given opportunity?"

"By asking you to re-evaluate your relationship with him?"

"I've been thinking about what you said," I replied, stubbing out my cigarette on the iron railing. "But when I see your face I can't help but think that what you truly mean is that you want me to leave him. You won't be truly happy until he's out of my life entirely."

"I never said that, Mateu," Momo said.

"Not to me at least."

Momo sighed.

"Yes," he admitted. "It hurts me to see you love him, that is true. But what hurts me more is seeing you loving someone who doesn't even reciprocate that love."

"What do you mean, Momo?" I said, trying to act coy.

"I. . ." he began.

I could see him try to force a smile on his lips, but it disappeared as soon as its first vestiges even showed up.

"I talked to Ferran earlier," he finally said. "Just now, when I helped him with his things. You know, I just wanted to know him better, and I asked him. . . "

"What did you ask him?"

"I asked him if he loved you."

Momo could barely look at me. I took a deep breath, trying to control my own emotions. He mustn't know that I had overheard him.

"And what did he say?"

"He said he loved you like a brother."

I kept silent as I gave a slight nod, clasping my hands in front of me.

"I'm so sorry," Momo muttered apologetically. "I'm sure you didn't want to find out about it like this, but I guess I had to tell you the truth.

A part of me was just waiting for him to mention it, finally for my opportunity to hit back. I guess deep inside I was still angry that he went out of his way, sneaking behind my back to try to get Ferran to leave me. He tells me his intentions were noble, that all he did was done out of his love for me. 

But how could I be so sure? I knew truly how he felt about Ferran, All this while he had been like a cornered mouse, intimidated just by Ferran's mere presence. Did he truly do it out of an idealised, honourable love, or did he do it simply because he felt threatened? That Ferran would snatch him away from his arms? That Ferran would take his place and leave him in the dust? Whatever it was, I was too angry to let it go just like that. He had stepped out of line.

"Like a brother you say. . ." I said. "Is that what he said? Word for word?"

Momo only nodded.

"If that is true," I continued, tilting my head ever so slightly as I looked straight into his warm hazel eyes. "Then I have a burning question. It's been something that has been bothering for quite a while really, and I think you could help me."

Momo blinked a couple of times, but he couldn't look away. I kept my ground, stubbed cigarette between my fingers, but my resolve was unwavering. It almost felt like I had reached out and clasped my hand around his throat.

"Did you hear what came out of his lips, under his hot breath when he came? After I fucked him so good he loses control of himself? After all his inhibitions have been shed, naked and bare as he lay underneath me?"

Momo gulped.

"No."

I took a step closer, leaning in so that my lips were hovering just a breath away from his ear.

"Rafel."